The Shadow
by Chaos-And-Mischief
Summary: She has gotten in too deep and now needs help. But how can Mycroft and Sherlock help her when she has been dead for years? How can they learn to trust her? Maybe pretending to be dead runs in the family...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! :D **  
**This is my first Sherlock fanfiction**

**this may get a little twisty...but please stick with me :D this is a long fiction :P **  
**it is one of my best :3 **

**I own le OCs, none of the others. **

Mycroft Holmes sat alone in his office, located away in the Diogenes Club in London. His eyes focusing on a recent file on a gang that had caught the attention of the government, they had no name to them only known around the areas in London as Downtown, based in the rural poorer areas in South London. Mycroft then turned to his laptop, flipped it up and began to study the footage of the gang. Entering his password, he quickly found the file and clicked it. The laptop screen infront of him froze, he sighed in frustration and began to click repeatedly. Mycroft huffed in annoyance. Bloody technology. The screen went black, the government official raised his eyebrow. A message was being typed slowly on his screen. Each letter made the man in front of the screen sit more and more forward in his leather seat.

_Didn't Mummy ever tell you to keep your nose out of other people's business? _

Mycroft looked at the screen and picked up his phone. The black screen flashed to nothing again and more writing appeared.

_Never did things for yourself, Mycroft. Trace this, you won't find anything. But you'll do it anyway._

* * *

Sherlock Holmes sat in his chair, solving a new case with John, sighing in frustration.

"This one is boring." He said, huffing and throwing his arms in the air. "It was the gardener, Lestrade." The man he mentioned had just handed him a folder, 2 minutes later the sociopath had solved it. "Clear motive, he killed Mr Thomas due to the lack of money he was receiving. The wife promised the gardener extra to kill him, split the life insurance with him. But they are now living together. You may want to find them." With that Sherlock walked over to his laptop, the table covered in newspapers and music he had attempted to write to waste more time. Sherlock logged onto his blog, and began to type.

"I apologise, Greg. He's been picky and bored." John said, sighing and handing the file to the detective inspector.

"He's hell to live with, I can only imagine."

"Since he came back from the dead…well, he's been worse."

"I am sitting right here." Sherlock said coldly as he looked back to his blog, he noticed a black screen. Sherlock's eyebrows creased in confusion. "That's…odd."

"What is?" Lestrade and John said, almost in sync. John walked over to the laptop, seeing letters type on the black screen.

_I wonder, can you keep a secret?_

"What the…" John said, confused as he leant on Sherlock's chair.

"Of course, I can." Sherlock said talking to a blank screen.

"They can't hear you, Sher-" John cut off as the screen went black again, letters appearing once again.

_Lestrade can trace this. Look under the meaning to find me. _

"Lestrade, can you trace locations from laptops?" Sherlock asked simply.

"I have a team that can, why?" Lestrade said as he walked over to the desk.

"Call them here. Looks like someone wants my attention."

"Are you serious? This person could be dangerous, Sherlock." John said surprised.

"More interesting than being bored. We could always play another game of Cluedo, John."

"Get your team here now." John said.

The person behind the screen grinned. The plan had worked. Both Holmes siblings were aware, they were both being watched. "OI!" someone shouted, it was time for her to leave. Grabbing her USB stick and bag, she ran out of the location she was in and ran out of Westfield Shopping Centre, leaving her message.

* * *

"Westfield Shopping Centre." A hacker told Sherlock. He nodded and reached for his coat and scarf, he had been pacing around for 15 mintues. That all it took the team from Scotland Yard to find this hacker.

"This hacker isn't hiding that well, this code could cover itself. And all the tracks-" a blonde haired boy began to say.  
"The person wants us to find them. Keep up." Sherlock said as he went to walk down the stairs. John shrugged at the team and Lestrade.

"You will need back-up."

"No we won't!" Sherlock shouted up as they heard the door open, John walked after him. Lestrade sighed and got his team packed up and left the flat, leaving everything else untouched. Sherlock and John hailed a cab and jumped in.

"Westfield Shopping Centre, please." Sherlock said, putting his gloves on.

"Why are we going straight into this person's path?" John asked wondering what Sherlock's game was.

"This person isn't dangerous, just giving me a message."

"Do you have any idea who it could be?"

"4 so far." John sighed and looked out the window, Sherlock always knew something he didn't. But he was so glad that he was back. After being dead for 3 years, he had returned and his life had slid into the craziness he called normal.

"I just hope you know what you're doing." John said

"I always do, don't I?" Sherlock looked over to his blogger and smirked, inflating his ego further.

"You don't know who this person is though." Sherlock looked away from the doctor again, thinking. Who would want to contact him? Why? Who? The cab pulled to a stop, Sherlock paid the driver and the two got out of the cab, looking at the glass fortress of shops in front of them.

"I hate shopping." John said, looking at the shopping centre.

"Lucky we're just searching for a hacker then." Sherlock lead John into the madness and chaos of the Westfield shopping centre and looked around frantically. A large computer store caught his eye and he walked quickly over to the entrance. "The hacker isn't hiding at all." Sherlock then saw a security guard inside the store, looking flustered with a group of employees, all in purple polo shirts. "Follow my lead, John." He turned to John and winked at him as they walked into the store, nearing the group of employees.

"…was anything taken?" a blonde employee said.

"No, nothing she just…left." The security guard said, still panicing. Sherlock deduced him instantly. Mid-30s, just slightly overweight, bald, with a child. Possibly new born due to the bags under his eyes and the white milk powder on his sleeve, smoker too, due to the nicotine stains under his fingernails. The stress will cause him to need a cigarette soon, perfect. "I need a fag, really badly. I'll take 5 mins." The security guard walked past Sherlock and John, not noticing them. The consulting detective smirked.

"John," Sherlock walked slightly away from the crowd that were yet to notice them, looking like he was looking at computer. "stay here, find what you can. I need a cigarette." Sherlock followed the security guard to a smoking area outside the shopping centre. The security guard looked shaken and the detective walked over casually. "Heya mate, don't have a spare fag I can nick do ya?" Sherlock's face became a fake alias again, he looked normal.

"Erm-yeah. Sure, sure thing." The man's hands went into his pocket to retrieve a cigarette, his hands slightly shaking. "Here, I got a lighter as well."

"Thanks, appreciate it." Sherlock took the cigarette and the man lit it for him. He inhaled the sweet smoke and looked over to the man.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah-just scare at work."

"Oh, work here is it?" Sherlock took another puff of the poisionous smoke, cursing himself for smoking again, but enjoying it so much. The security guard nodded his head. "Where'd ya work?"

"The Sony Computer store, security guard. This girl was looking shify, I chased her. She got away."

"She take anything?"

"No, nothing. Just was clicking at a computer."

"Which one?" Sherlock exhaled some more smoke and looked at the security guard, who was thinking.

"A Sony Vaio, J Series. One of the 8 GB RAM ones. Nice model." With that Sherlock stubbed his cigarette out.

"Thanks mate, don't worry if she didn't take anything. It's a bit pointless." Sherlock departed to meet John in the store. He paused and rolled his eyes to see John talking to an attractive brunette, with medium sized breasts and a tattoo on her wrist. Skinny, but with large hips. Late 30s, obviously had work done. Sherlock walked into the store and interrupted the conversation straight away, John was laughing at something that wasn't that funny.

"Sony Vaio, 8GB RAM. Where do you keep them?" Sherlock said looking into the brunette woman's confused blue eyes. John looked over to his flatmate and sighed frustrated.

"Yes, eh…this way." They followed the brunette, John pulling them back.

"I was doing well." John whispered.

"We're here to do a case. Not get a date." Sherlock said, glaring daggers at John, he walked over to the woman.

"They are very fast and easy to work with, I'd rec-"

"Shut up. Thank you." Sherlock began to look at the 3 computers infront of him and began to lift all of them up, until he finally came across a note.

"Why is that addressed to you?" John said.

"She wanted me to find her, she never said she'd make it easy for me." Sherlock said and left the store.

"Hey wait!" The brunette rushed to catch up with John. "Here's my number, any time you fancy a coffee?"

"Yes, yep. I'd love to. Thanks, I must go though."

"Who is that man?"

"My flatmate, and yes, he does this often." John rushed to join Sherlock by his side. "You-"

"Shut up, I'm thinking."

"No listen to me. I have a social life Sherlock. I want to date women and the next time you interrupt-"

"Did you get her number?"

"Yes but-

"So shut up."

"You opened the note?" Sherlock handed him the note as they got into a cab.

"Sherlock,  
You know who I am, yet you don't.  
We're close, but so far.  
You have little friends, yet I am one.  
Find me by the end of today, I know it won't take you long.  
The place we met is too familiar and stings your mind and haunts memories. " John said as he sat down in the cab. "What does that mean?"

"I know this girl."

"You…Sherlock Holmes know a girl?" John raised his eyebrow. Sherlock looked over, to see his suggestive expression.

"John…really. Her handwriting is clearly that of a person under 21, at least. The curls on the writing are immature and she used a pen that was running out of ink, she thought hard about giving me these clues, she stopped many times." Silence came across the pair, Sherlock entering the mind palace.

"So who do you know who is under 21 and knows you?"

"I don't think…" Sherlock froze. It suddenly hit him, he knew. He KNEW. "I thought. But."

"Sherlock?" John said, the cab almost pulling up to Baker Street.

"You go inside, I need to do something." John shrugged, ignoring his want to ask him, knowing he'd just ignore him. John left the cab and Sherlock sighed.

"Where to mate?" The cabby said.

"Goldhawk Road, Hammersmith." Sherlock said coldly. He hated this place. It had been 10 years since he dared to have been there.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock paid the cabby and stepped out into the cold, the sun was setting and he looked at the road. It was new, completely made over. He walked over to the place he knew to be the location of the girl. A new block of flats were in place of the older ones that he had seen. Sherlock observed the block of flats and walked into the reception of the flats, a woman at the desk.

"Hello sir, can I help you?"

"Oh yes, I'm here to visit a friend on the 5th floor, can I just go up?" The mask of emotion showing again, he smiled nervously.

"Of course, go on up. Lift just there." He smiled and walked over to the lift. The lift dinged to reach the 5th floor, Sherlock stepped onto the grey carpet, the warmth welcome on his skin. He looked at each door…eventually he noticed one door had been forced open. He smirked, the number was the one of the flat his memories stung his mind. Sherlock pressed his hand to the door, creaking open slightly.

"Knew you'd find me." A soft female voice said from inside the flat, a slight cockney twang in her voice. "Number 18, felt it was right to do this properly." Sherlock saw the girl sitting on the window sill, her legs resting on the desk nearest the window. Her hair was hazel brown with blonde highlights from her neck down, her hair reaching just above her elbow in slight curls. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a dark green shirt, slightly ripped on one sleeve, black hi-tops and a knife in her hand, playing with it in her hands. "Surprised you remember me. Last saw you when I was 14, how old were you?"

"You know how old I was." Sherlock looked at the girl. "I thought you were dead."

"No, they'd have to try a little harder than that." She placed the knife in the holder on her thigh. "Russians may have captured the weak ones but they'd have to try a little harder."

"Mycroft thinks you're dead."

"That's because I know how to act properly dead, unlike you, brother dearest." She smirked, white teeth showing from under her slightly tinted lips. Sherlock looked at the girl, his little sister.

"You've been dead for a 2 years, Rosalia Katherine Holmes, what would Mummy have said?"

"She's been dead for 5 years Sherlock," she said, her face emotionless. "I doubt she has much to say. She'd have a lot to say about your faked death."

"I didn't see you at the funeral."

"I knew better." Rosalia smiled again. "I sent Mycroft a message too."

"Oh, adventurous." Sherlock said sarcastically.

"Well." She shrugged "needed to let him know eventually didn't I? Did a better job at being dead than you."

"You were pronounced dead by Duke Of York. Ambush in France whilst training. Why were the Russians even in France?"

"You've been spying on me haven't you? Thought you were dead for 3 years?"

"You knew better though." Rosalia chuckled lightly, jumped down from the window sill and stood in front of Sherlock. "Why are you here?"

"I'm in a bit of trouble. In a little too deep. Something is happening."

"Oh, that surprises me. Why not tell Mycroft?"

"Well that's a story." Sherlock sighed as he turned to leave. "Fine, don't hear it. But if you don't you'll be seeing me soon." Sherlock turned around to see his little sister with one leg outside the window. "It was nice seeing you Sherly. Don't tell Mycroft you've seen me, could be quite messy." She blew a kiss to her older brother and slipped out the window. Sherlock ran to the window to see her begin to slide down the drainpipe. Sherlock looked to see her run into a car and take off into the distance.

* * *

Sherlock arrived at 221B Baker Street during the early hours of the evening, John watching more mindless television.

"Where have you been then?" John said

"Seeing an old friend." Sherlock said simply, hanging up his coat and scarf.

"Who is this old friend?"

"A friend, John." Sherlock shot a glare at him, before noticing the news report on the television.

"…_police are yet to have the locations of these gangs, but reports say that they are both coming from West Kensington and near Hammersmith. The motivation is not yet known but it is the 2__nd__ murder of an Imperial University student, the police are yet to comment on both the murders committed in the past 4 days in the West Kensington area. Tom Davies and Harry Stevens were both students at Imperial University. The police are looking for any information on suspicious gang activity in the two areas near Imperial and Hammersmith Station where the murders took place…"_

"The boys were only 20. Both of them." John said sadly, noticing Sherlock's glance.

"Gangs?" Sherlock said, surprised.

"Still around you know, gangs. They aren't too far from here. Teenagers might kill us all if we're not careful."

"Caution is advised, Dr Watson. Indeed it is." Sherlock noticed the new voice in the room and turned to see the last person he wanted to see. Mycroft.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock said turning away from his brother and heading into the kitchen.

"I think you know what I want. You just saw."

"You want us to hunt down gangs?" John said in disbelief, noticing the file under Mycroft's arm.

"In some ways, yes."

"He wants us to find the link too, John." Sherlock said taking his position on the stool by his microscope, trying to look un-interested.

"Precisely." Mycroft said simply.

"You have eyes and ears everywhere, why not just find them that way."

"There is a twist. They have a hacker." John looked to Sherlock who gave him a glare. Mycroft looked between the two and cleared his throat. "The hacker has blocked my access to the 'gang' file." John took the file from Mycroft, confused.

"So what is this file on?"

"The victims that have been killed. Find the link, find the gang."

"It's never that simple, Mycroft. These people are getting cleverer." Sherlock said, not looking up from the microscope.

"We think the leader is behind the killings."

"But why?" John looked up, his eyebrows creased

"That's why I came here. I'm too busy with…other problems."

"Going for a dental check-up isn't a government problem of importance." Sherlock stated coldly. John stifled a laugh as Mycroft glared daggers at his younger brother.

"I'll be seeing you very soon, Sherlock. Dr Watson." Mycroft nodded to John and then left the room, leaving the two friends to silence until the door shut.

"Seems interesting." John said, looking through the files.

"Boring." Sherlock said simply.

"You have no case, why are you denying this one?"

"Because the answer to all of Mycroft's questions will be here soon."

* * *

Rosalia sat in a chair 2 days later, looking out over scope of London's lights. They had broken into an empty flat to get food and to rest. Returning to the streets of Hammersmith was hard for them all, the looks. the people in the area looked at them like dirt.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She said, feeling a person's heat from behind her.

"I can think of more beautiful things." The deep voice said, it gave her tingles the way he spoke to her. Rosalia looked up to see a tall, skinny boy in a blue hoodie, grey jeans and navy converse next to her. His mahogany shaded hair blowing in the wind, his green eyes reflecting the lights. She smiled at her partner.

"Name one, Matt."

"I'm looking at one." He smiled, always the charmer.

"We better get out of here soon, Matt." She said, pressing her lips to his cheek and wandering off to see the others. "Lydia, Dave, Mikey? How we doing?" The three people in question turned around. Mikey was a fairly muscular boy, with his brown hair short and his blue eyes deep. Dave was skinny, like Matt but had long hair that reached the back of his neck. Lydia was a pixie cut, red head girl with the freckles and blue eyes to match. They all wore hoodies, some zipped and some pullover and a form of jeans.

"Good, only a bit left." Lydia smiled.

"Can't believe we found one of the flats they use as base." Mikey said, excited, he lived for the fights.

"We better hurry guys, hate to be a hater." Dave said, worried.

"He's right, hurry up-" Then they heard voices coming from the corridor. They looked shocked as they all clambered to the window. Rosalia motioned for Lydia and Dave to go first. She nodded slightly to Matt and Mikey as they took a defensive position. Everything went quiet.

"…yeah, should have seen her face. Wait-is your flat door slightly open? Didn't you lock it?" The ring of a boy's voice came through the tiny crack in the door. Matt swallowed hard and clenched his fists, Mikey smiled evily and grabbed a knife from the kitchen side they were near. Rosalia unhooked her knife from her thigh, ready to strike. 5 boys came through the door, wearing polo shirts. Mikey launched at the nearest one, hitting him in the shoulder with his knife and kicking the one next to him. Rosalia blinked quickly before another one launched at her, tackling her to the ground.

Another one went for Matt, whilst the other 2 ganged up on the biggest, their loss Rosalia thought to herself. She kicked the boy on top of her in the crotch as he fell back from the force. She looked up to see Mikey on the floor, horror stricken on her face as she noticed the knife in his stomach. Matt was struggling out of the grasp of a ginger haired boy. Rosalia came up quickly to kick the ginger in the lower back, causing him to double over in pain. She ran to the window, with a hyperventilating Matt.

"Go. NOW!" She said, gaining her breath back.

"NO! You need me."

"I'll be fine." She turned to face Matt and smiled. He began to climb out of the window. She turned sharply, only to have pain shoot through her left side. A knife, in her shoulder. The blonde who had struck her stood back in horror as the knife stayed in her shoulder, she gasped. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably. Without thinking about it, Rosalia began to climb out of the window, just after Matt. The bigger of the 4 boys was about to regain consciousness, he was clearly part of the enemies' plan. Rosalia clambered out of the window, knife still in her shoulder and she slid down the drainpipe. She yanked the knife out of her body quickly, still causing her to yell in pain. She ran onto the street and hailed a cab straight away, luckily she had grabbed their money before she left.

"221B Baker Street, please. Hurry." She shouted.

**Reviewage? (: **


	3. Chapter 3

It hit 1am in London and Rosalia finally arrived at Baker Street, she threw some notes at driver and clambered out of the taxi. The pain causing her whole body to shake in shock. She looked at the black door and knocked on it hard with her good hand. A few seconds passed, and she knocked again. Hearing the sound of a person coming down the stairs she placed her hand over the wound. Rosalia sighed in relief as Sherlock opened the door to see his baby sister clutching her bloody shoulder.

"I told you. It'd be soon." She said, wincing through her pain. Sherlock opened the door for her to come in, his face not changed from the sight of her. Rosalia looked around the hall of Baker Street, plain and normal.

"Can you get up the stairs?" Sherlock asked. His voice showed no emotion. She looked up the stairs and took her first step, then her second, third and by the forth she was almost falling backwards. She felt arms behind her push her up the stairs. "I got you, be careful." Sherlock said, the emotion missing from his voice once again. By the time Rosalia reached the top of the stairs she was exhausted. The blood loss had finally registered in her body and she reached for the nearest thing to learn on. Her brother reached out a steady arm to hold her balance as he guided her to the sofa, knowing John'd kill him for even getting some blood on the black leather sofa. "Can I look?"

"It'd mean taking off my hoodie, be careful." She strained her arms up to the ceiling, yelping in pain as the green hoodie went over her arm. The cut was deep and wide, the blood was seeping through her light blue vest top as a strap was cut as well. Rosalia looked down at her cut and whistled. "That's a good cut."

"Who attacked you?" Sherlock asked, searching for her eyes. She looked away, refusing to let him into her blue eyes. "Who did you attack?"

"It's a long story, I told you before." She looked into her brothers eyes, their eyes were almost identical. "Can you patch me up?" Sherlock then left Rosalia on her own to take in her surroundings. The messy, scruffy, odd flat was to her liking. Case files piled one on top of the other on a desk, near a laptop she'd hacked. Two armchairs near a fireplace, it was cosy. Sherlock arrived back in the room with a medical kit. The detective kneeled next to the injured girl and began applying anti septic liquid to the cut and to clear the blood up. She winced in pain a few times but managed to try and converse with her older brother. "What do you do for a living?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the question.

"You should know that."

"Everyone has a job title, you don't. I'm trying to create polite conversation."

"I'm a consulting detective. The police come to me if they are stuck, that's almost all the time." Rosalia laughed a little at this, wincing in pain as she realised her stab wound was still there. "Stop moving then." She glared daggers at Sherlock before looking away again.

"What do you do?"

"What?"

"For a living."

"I don't really know. I just do what I think is right."

"Getting messed up in this isn't the right thing to do."

"It is when you've got something to fight for." Sherlock looked at her, wanting her to continue. "These people, I was with, I found them when I escaped that hell-hole. Took me in, got a little job to help pay. But something more was going on. We were being tormented by the richer kids in Hammersmith, university wars. It got more and more serious until my friend, Johnny, was killed. The group of people I am with started from that. In memory of him." She winced as Sherlock pressed the liquid to her cut again. Happy with the story she told her brother, she began to relax. "He was killed because he was kicked out of uni, he couldn't afford it anymore. Sam was killed because he was poor. So we killed back. I was only young, I didn't know how to do it, I just knew it was right."

"So the gangs were born."

"About a year and half ago. We fought and they fought back harder. Someone is behind the rich kid gang, no way can those kids kill. Should have seen…" She stopped, remembering the horror in the boy's face as he saw the knife in her shoulder. He's probably scarred for life. Sherlock stopped cleaning the wound to look into the blue eyes of the girl again. The emotions raced through her eyes. _Sentiment. _Rosalia Holmes, his sister, felt sentiment. He was disappointed, it'd make her weak. Holmes were never weak. "Don't look at me like that." She stood up and walked away from him, facing away from him.

"Like what?" Sherlock stood up looked down at the blood in his hands, she was bleeding a lot. "You need to sit back down, I can stitch-"

"Why do you care?" Rosalia turned around, eyes wet with tears. "I can see the way you looked at me, you think I'm weak. I can still deduce as quickly and accurately as you and Mycroft, remember?"

"I taught you, I know this."

"You forgot pretty quickly then. I'm not weak, Sherlock." She winced in pain again, shifting her weight slightly. "You would be shocked of the things I have done."

"Sit down, don't be dramatic, I need to stitch the wound." Sherlock said, commanding. Rosalia looked at her older brother and sighed, sitting down on the sofa.

"What on earth is going on?" The two siblings looked to the kitchen to see John, in a black dressing gown. Rosalia looked at Sherlock and he sighed.

"John-"

"It's 1am in the morning! What is going on?!" John said, his arms crossed.

"I'm helping someone, isn't that obvious?" Rosalia stood up and sighed, extended her good arm to shake John's hand.

"Rosalia Holmes. Good to meet you Dr Watson." John took the girls hand and stared at her. He let go of her hand and looked to Sherlock and back to Rosalia.

"You're-"

"This is my sister, John. Younger obviously." Sherlock sighed, it was obvious.

"You have-"

"You've never mentioned me before Sherly?" Rosalia said sarcastically.

"You _were_ supposed to be dead."

"_Likewise_, brother. But at least you had someone care if you were dead or not."

"Mycroft cared."

"Fake sentiment, even you could deduce that."

"I AM STILL HERE!" John said, waking up from his sleep fully. "You're bleeding a lot."

"Good attempt at a deduction John." Sherlock said as he sat on the sofa.

"I'll get my kit and we'll stitch it up. Sherlock would have done a poor job anyway." John left the two siblings, Rosalia turned to face her brother, his blue eyes wandering into space.

"Did you even come to the memorial service?" She asked, a little chocked up.

"I was busy."

"Too busy to see your own sister being buried."

"But you weren't buried." Sherlock spat at her.

"I'm still your sister." Her voice became a whisper "But that means nothing to you." His cold eyes shifted to see his sister, the blonde highlights tainting her natural brown hair that the family shared. "I remember my childhood like it was yesterday, I know you do too."  
"Some of us had it better than the rest of us."

"I looked after her until her death, watching her-" Rosalia sighed "Why am I bothering to explaining this to my heartless brother?" John walked in before Sherlock could battle another remark. She sat next to Sherlock on the leather sofa. He began dis-infecting the wound again and dug a needle into the thin skin, making her wince in pain.

"Sorry, it'll be over before you know it." John said, comforting her.

"I know, but thank you." She said through her teeth, controlling a cry of pain.

"So you're Sherlock's sister?" John said, distracting her. Sherlock left the room at this point, sitting at the stool behind his microscope. Rosalia nodded at the question. "How old are you?"

"I'm 19, 13 years between me and Sherlock. 18 between me and Mycroft."

"What was he like back then?"

"He was always one for science, experimenting. Quiet, reading all the time, Sherly used to read me bedtime stories." She looked over to the person she was talking about, smiling. "However I was reading Shakespeare on my own by the time I was 5, Mycroft left his books lying around his rooms."

"What was Mycroft like?"

"Always was serious, but he always played Barbie with me. His female voice was amazing." John chuckled at this. "Sherlock rather cut up my dolls than play with them."

"Why?"

"He was like 16, god knows why."

"I needed the plastic to bond something for my experiment." Sherlock shouted from the other room.

"I wish I saw him more, but life gets in the way. University and all. I saw more of Mycroft, he bought me my first computer." John finished the stitching her stitches and she moved her arm slightly, happy that it didn't open up after movement. "Thank you, John."

"You're welcome. How did you get that cut?" Rosalia looked at John, her eyes wide.

"My sister's gang was attacking their rivals and she ended up with that wound." Sherlock announced from the other room.

"It's a bit more complicated than that-"

"You're in a gang?" John said, confused.

"Yes, John." Sherlock commented again. John looked at the girl in front of him. A Holmes in a gang? It must be impossible.

"You're in that gang, terrorising people?"

"It's more complicated than that, John." She went on to explain the story again, John confused by the story.

"So you just joined this gang?"

"I left the school Mycroft sent me to. Duke of York, the military one. One of the only survivors of the attack in France."

"Don't you have to be a serving member of the army to get into that one?"

"John, it's Mycroft." Sherlock said once again from the other room.

"So he sent you off to school, you got out, found these people and haven't moved on since?" she nodded "Why did you get sent off to that school?" Sherlock looked up at his sister, her eyes glazing over with tears, she fought them away.

"Our Mummy got sick, cancer, I was only 11. I was alone, Sherlock started to get involved with the police and Mycroft was nearly at the top of the government. We were alone, father died when I was 9. I looked after her for almost 3 years, balancing a high school life too." Rosalia sighed, a tear escaping from her eye. "I was 14 and she finally lost her battle with the cancer. She fought so hard. We did so well. But she couldn't." Rosalia chocked on her next words. "I was alone. Orphaned, with only my brothers to turn to. Instead of taking me into their lives, they sent me away." She looked at Sherlock, his eyes wide. Sherlock didn't know that his brother had forced it upon her, but knew that was what Mycroft did. "I wasn't wanted. I didn't work well with people there, we went away on a training exercise in France, we got bombarded by a Russian terrorist group, I escaped and ran. That's how I found them." Rosalia yawned, bags under her eyes becoming heavier. "Sorry, I should go."

"Where will you go?" John asked as she stood up.

"Anywhere."

"Do you have money?"

"Nope."

"Stay here." The two turned to face Sherlock, the voice they had just heard, not looking up from his microscope to speak.

"What?" Rosalia was shocked.

"Stay here." Sherlock said again, facing his sister and flatmate. "I imagine after that high profile attack you'll be wanting to lay low."

"Right under Mycroft's nose?"

"He won't come here. He doesn't even know you're alive."

"My blood though-"

"What is Mycroft honestly going to do?" Sherlock looked at his sister, fear and anger in her eyes. He deduced the secret she was hinting at instantly. "Oh."

"I didn't want to. But-"

"Tom Davies." She nodded "Sleep, you haven't slept in 2 days." Rosalia nodded again and stepped into Sherlock's room, closing the door behind her. Sherlock sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. John looked at him, puzzled.

"What does she have to do with that murder?"

"It was the gang she's apart of."

"But-"

"Oh come on John, isn't it obvious?" John shrugged, Sherlock stood up.

"Even you aren't this blind."

"It's 2am Sherlock!"

"My sister murdered that boy. The guilt is clear in her body language, she's got a heavy burden on her shoulders. That's why she is scared of Mycroft, that is why she is terrified."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"We?"

"Are we going to hide her here?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She's got the answers we need to shut Mycroft up."

"She just told us alot."

"You believed she happened to come across a gang? No if they were a true 'gang' they'd need something else, she is hiding more."

"She isn't going to give you the answers you want."

"Just need to soften her up a little then." Sherlock grinned.

**Bit of a back story to Rosalia thereee...or is it...:P **

**Reviewage? :D **


	4. Chapter 4

_Rosalia stood by the side of her mother's newly dug grave, her tears a never-ending stream down her face. She felt a hand touch her shoulder, she turned to see Mycroft, her eldest brother behind her, wearing a black suit and black tie, unlike his usual grey suit. She smiled a sad smile towards her brother and she pulled him into an embrace. Mycroft, shocked at the action put his arms around his little sister and pulled her close, rubbing his thumb on the back of the silk black dress he had bought for her. Rosalia broke the embrace and looked back at the grave. _

_"You couldn't keep her alive for any longer." Mycroft voice said_

_"I don't want to be alone, Mycroft." _

_"You'll never be alone, Ariel." She smiled at the nickname Mycroft had called her since a young girl. _

_"Where do I go from here?" Her eyes found her brother's cold blue ones. Her face dropped. "I'm not living with you, am I?"_

_"It'd be dangerous, Lia-"_

_"You're my brother, I need family." _

_"I wish I could-"_

_"No! No, you don't. You want to get rid of me." The anger straining her voice. "Where are you sending me to then?" _

_"Duke of Yorks." _

_"That posh military school?" _

_"The military school, yes." Mycroft looked at his little sister. "You'll be looked after there, I promise."_

_"Where is Sherlock?" Mycroft looked at the ground, Rosalia knowing the answer. She scoffed, he looked at her. "When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning or in rain?" Mycroft smirked a little, the quote from Macbeth, the play they had been reading on the day her world was turned upside down._

* * *

Rosalia woke up from the dream, the memory of her brother. She fell asleep in Sherlock's soft bed, something she hadn't slept in for months, a bed. The time was 11.15, shit, she'd slept a lot. Rosalia got up and shuffled into the kitchen to see Sherlock at his desk, eye in his microscope.

"Morning." Sherlock said simply looking at his sister. Her curly hair was wild and notted, dried blood on her ripped vest top. Her jeans were wrecked too.

"Hi." She said, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "Thank you for letting me sleep here for the night."

"I don't sleep when on a case."

"What case is that, then?"

"Government secret."

"It the gangs isn't it?" Sherlock looked at his sister, her arms crossed, eyebrow raised. "I'm not stupid, I figured it out last night." Sherlock smiled at Rosalia, she was a Holmes. "Got anything to eat?" Sherlock shrugged, she wandered over to the fridge and saw an arm in the fridge. "What's with the arm?" Her voice was almost excited

"Going to see how hard it is to identify fingerprints and DNA traces off the victim's body after it has been burnt."

"So you're going to punch and crush the arm with your hands and then set it on fire?"

"Precisely."

"Sounds fun. Need a lab assistant?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow at his sister. Their blue eyes connecting, a glint of mischief not seen in their eyes since a younger age.

* * *

Mycroft was at a loss. The gangs had attacked a house of Imperial students again. The link was obvious, yet his brother was yet to phone him to tell him of the discovery, arrogance and ego on show.

The blood was being traced for DNA, it would take that group another 24 hours to find the identities of the people, he should have just asked Sherlock. But he knew he'd refuse. Mycroft huffed, frustrated and left his office, entered his black car and told his driver to go to 221B Baker Street.

Something wasn't right, that bullet.

* * *

John entered his flat, the place stinking of something fowl. He almost dropped the shopping bags as he entered the lounge.

"What on earth is that-" He stopped as he saw the two siblings in the kitchen. Sherlock was punching and grabbing a arm as Rosalia stood there with a box of matches in her hand. John saw on the table the horrible sight of arms, burnt. "You're burning arms?!"

"Seeing if finger prints are still recognizable after burning." Sherlock said, looking up to see the shopping bags on the floor.

"The smell that bad?" Rosalia said, setting her matches aside.

"A bit!" She saw the angry doctor and went to open a few windows, walking over to the window. She froze and then turned. She ran into Sherlock's room and closed the door. John looked after her in confusion, Sherlock too. They stared at the door. They heard footsteps coming up the stairs to see Mycroft appear. Sherlock looked at his brother and turned away to inspect the recently burnt arm.

"That is a dreadful smell, brother. Doesn't Mrs Hudson ever get tired of you?" The elder Holmes said, ice cold as he leant against his umbrella, a briefcase in his other hand.

"What do you want?" Sherlock said, annoyance in his voice.

"I need to check how the case I have handed you is going."

"It's been a few days, patience is needed. However it is simple."

"How?"

"A gang member murdered this boy. Find them, easy."

"That's what you think." Mycroft picked the untouched case file. "The boy wasn't beaten, or stabbed. He was shot directly in the heart, clean and cut."

"Why does that make any difference?" John asked, folding his arms.

"The gang accused are all assumed to be homeless. The bullet on the body can be fired from one gun only. A pure silver Coonan 357. Magnum."

"They ran into some money, so what?" John was challenging Mycroft, Sherlock chuckled slightly.

"This isn't the first time we saw this bullet." Sherlock looked up at Mycroft, not showing his interest in the case. Mycroft produced another set of files from his briefcase. "They say she is a shadow."

"She?" John said

"Yes. We left a lipstick stain on the cheek of this victim." Mycroft retrieved another file and handed John a picture of the dead body.

"She was toying with that one."

"You traced it?"

"Obviously, and there was nothing. No records. It was almost as if the killer has no records."

"Impossible, surely."

"We don't know what sort of people pass us on the streets, John. The woman you see next could be having an affair with 6 other men, but only people like you can ignore the signs." Sherlock began to be interested now, not even he could hide it. "A rich homeless person with an amazing amount of accuracy?"

"Yes, exactly." Mycroft said, slightly shocked at his brothers interest.

"Why would a homeless gang hire a serial killer?" John was confused, the flat still stunk of burning flesh and he felt sick.

"Or an assassin is hired by someone else. Why would someone want to have someone kill kids in a gang?" Sherlock thought out loud.

"There's something going on here. Have the Imperial gangs killed?"

"3 members."

"How?"

"Gun point, only one was beaten to death."

"A year or so ago?"

"Yes." Mycroft raised an eyebrow "How do you-"

"Lucky guess. Why show interest now?"

"The assassin, or whatever she may be, knows a lot. We need her."

"Sorry, I can't help you. Sounds pretty pointless too." John and Mycroft looked at Sherlock. "Goodbye Mycroft, thank you for boring me." Sherlock went back to his microscope, as Mycroft nodded and left without even saying a word. John watched Mycroft step into the black car outside and then turned to his flatmate.

"Okay, what on earth was that about?" John said, raising his voice slightly. "One minute you're interested, next…nothing?"

"Mycroft will not be getting my help."

"What does that mean?" Sherlock got up and went into his room. The window was open and a note was left on the bed, next to his coat.

_Had to go, borrowing some money.  
See ya soon, bro.  
x_

Sherlock huffed, in frustration. He should have seen this coming, one look at Mycroft and she was gone. Cleaned out of cash and with a dead end on a case, brilliant.

"She's gone." Sherlock said as he walked out of his bedroom door.

"Who?" John said, miles away, his head in the newspaper on the table.

"Lia-Rosalia." Sherlock said, thinking hard. He needed to ask her so many questions. He ran his right hand through his hair and began pacing. John looked at him with a confused expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Lia? You called her Lia?"

"Rosalia, that is her name."

"You said Lia, you always call people by their full names."

"You should hear what Mycroft calls her."

**Next chapter will be more about Rosalia :P **  
**this parts isn't that complicated...hope it make sense **

**Reviewage? (:**


	5. Chapter 5

**hi everyone! **  
**SORRY it's been ages I know...but I'm all finished in school now, just gotta wait for UNII! ;D **  
**please read and review it'd help to have some feedback :)**

Rosalia sighed, catching her breath. She needed to avoid all cameras, everything. No one could trace her. She walked through alley after alley, winding through the streets of London to reach her location. She entered a run-down mansion, barely holding together. She opened the right door to see the furnished mansion, the marbled floors, white and shining. The chandelier glittering, the stair cases winding and freshly polished. This was the beauty of this place, no one would ever touch it from the outside, but inside it was a jewel. Her shoes clunked on the floor and she heard the click of a gun. Rosalia laughed and looked up to see her partner, aiming a gun at her.

"You on watch now?" Rosalia smirked at Matt as he let out a sigh of relief and lowered his gun.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"Went to visit family." She said simply, walking up the stairs.

"You better go see him, you've got a new job."

"Not coming along?"

"No, he wants me to guard."

"Lydia? Dave?"

"Gone out to stalk." She chuckled. "He'll be expecting you."

"I'll talk later then." Rosalia ruffled his hair as she walked through a hall to reach a black door, she knocked four times and the cold voice of the man inside commanded her to enter. The white room, heavily shelved, was adorned with little books and the desk showed two computers, one heavy black looking one and one white Mac. Guns were boxed into the corner, she looked and thought to herself, she was glad she had Claudius, her faithful gun. Rosalia caught the dark hazel glare of her boss, her employeer. His black hair was slicked back as usual, a white shirt and suit bottoms encased his tiny frame and muscle less arms. The scar on the side of his face, pink, his sleeves, rolled up, revealed the tiny speckles of blood from his recent injection of heroin. His eyes were swimming with ecstasy, he wore a grin for his favourite assassin. Rosalia nodded at him and sat in front of the desk.

"Get a little cut up out there this time?" His cool, deep voice spoke. His voice dripped in a layer of mystery and it intimidated all who heard it. He looked at the cut on her shoulder, the dry blood on her vest top. "You went into the streets like that?"

"I didn't have a choice, I avoided cameras. I know how it works by now." He smirked, she had changed so much from that time he had found her, vulnerable in the pitiful thing they called a gang. "I heard you have a new job for me?"

"Yes, this isn't a member." He turned the mac computer screen around, the footage was of a man in his mid 30's, going into a chemist to get a prescription drugs. Easy straight away. Switch them with something else. "His name is John Major. A professor at Imperial, he teaches English Literature. We think he's seen one of ours at the scene of the crime."

"He hasn't gone to the police?"

"Not at all, we just need to keep him quiet, permanently." Rosalia nodded, looking at the man once again. "Murder him in the building." She looked up, confused.

"Why?"

"His family don't need to see his murder." Her face dropped, realising what she was about to do. Playing God, taking someone's life. "In lesson time."

"Are you mad?" she said "cameras? I work better at night. Get Matt to do it."

"I need you to do it. To make up for your mistake."

"Mistake!?" She shouted

"You left blood on the scene, you'll be needing the computer to trace it to someone, yes?" Shit, she hadn't thought of that. "Do this and I'll let you use this computer now." She sighed, this was going to be risky. "Unless you want me to tell your little gang friends who your big brother is-"

"We have a deal, Malus." Aiden Malus smiled at his little assassin. He stepped out of his seat and handed it to Rosalia, she began to type away at the black computer, she'd have a few hours left before the slow tracers would find her. Malus stroked her hair as she did this. "Any reason you're doing that, Malus?"

"You need to sleep, 9am he has his first lecture. 4th floor, left side, 6 across. I recommend using a sniper."

"I don't sniper people."

"When he comes into work, I'll kill him before he enters the building. He won't even hit the lobby."

"But students won't see him-"

"He is always late for work, look at him. He's flustered, in a rush at 9.15am, his lectures must have started at 9am."

"How do you do that?"

"His shirt." She pointed at the freeze. "It's creased on the left arm, should have been ironed the night before, it's not. It's this morning, rushed." She smiled up at her boss and turned back to the black computer, setting up a loop for the DNA.

"You fascinate me." He gained closer to her face, his breath stinking of smoke and alcohol. He had drunk, smoke and taken heroin. Brilliant.

"Thank you." She hit enter, sending the codes off. Checking it was all fool proof. "All done, I'll get some sleep." Rosalia left the room, leaving her boss shaken. She shuddered; he had tried to come onto her. She walked down the hall to hear people talking, Lydia, Dave and Matt turned to see her and smiled. "Get some food then?" Lydia held up a brown paper bag of what smelt like Chinese in her hand, Dave did the same with two others. She smiled.

"Whats the new job like?" Matt asked, putting his gun in its holster.

"Daytime, tomorrow, professor at Imperial." She said, yawning. "I need to eat then I better sleep."

"It is only like 6!" Lydia said

"I better get up a few hours before hand, check things out. I'm exhausted. I need food though." She said stealing a bag from Lydia, walking into a room in the mansion. Matt sighed and looked at Lydia.

"My food is in there too isn't it?" Lydia nodded at the question. "Oh, that girl." Matt jogged after her as she went up to the 3rd and final floor and took a sharp left, she picked a room with a double bed with a white duvet and pillows. The view showed streets of London, busy buses and she sat by it straight away. "Hey sunshine, fancy giving me my food?" She smirked, of course he followed her.

"It's in the bag."

"So where did ya go last night?" She looked back at the boy sitting on the bed, spreading out the food on the white duvet. "I know you slept."

"I went to see a family member."

"Stayed there?"

"Yep."

"I didn't know you had family left." She smiled at him. "Oh sorry."

"No, no. Don't worry." She sat on the bed opposite Matt

"Your mum? Dad?" He asked, grabbing a spare rib.

"Brother." His eyebrows raised.

"Name?"

"Sam." Matt swallowed his food as Rosalia picked up a fork and dug into her chicken noodles.

"So is that all?" She shook her head, her mouth full. "Sister." She shook her head again. "Another brother?" She nodded. "Name?" Rosalia swallowed her food, looking at her partner. He couldn't know.

"John."

"Sam, John and Rosie. Traditional." Matt then began to focus on his food. She looked at him. To him the girl sitting opposite him was Rosie, or Rogue, the identity Malus had given her. She was Malus' youngest assassin, possibly his only one left. It was him who found her on that Ferry from France. She was a stow-away, he took her under her wing. She was always living a dangerous life, never a famiy life. "You ok?" She was staring into space again.

"I'm fine, just thinking."

"Dangerous that." She chuckled as they finished their meal, he pushed all the empty containers onto the floor and closed the door. Matt looked at his partner, she had moved to stare outside again. "We're safe, please." Matt snaked his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear. "I promise, you don't have to live your life with an eye open." His lips found their way to the crook of her neck, she relaxed instantly in his arms. "I can't pretend. I can't hide my feelings for you." She turned to kiss his passionately on the lips as she draped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer into her kiss. She was stupidly falling for this guy, ignoring the warnings from her brothers as a young child. Sentiment, it was a chemical defect. It caused weakness. But this made her stronger. She felt his hand slide up her shirt as he almost ripped it off her. She turned him so his back faced the bed and pushed him down, straddling his hips. The kiss became more frantic as they gave into their passion for each other.


	6. Chapter 6

John Watson woke up the next day to the sound of a violin being played, it was 9.30, unfortunately, he couldn't have a rant at Sherlock for playing early this time. He groaned, got up and stretched, going into his bathroom to shower and get dressed. It was only 15 minutes later until he heard another familiar voice coming from downstairs. John rushed downstairs to see Lestrade and Sherlock talking.

"What's-" John began to speak

"Murder, Imperial University, Hammersmith, Professor, shot, 8.47am." Sherlock said quickly, grabbing his coat and signature navy scarf.

"Got a body to inspect, Dr Watson, come along."

The three arrived at the crime scene after a silent drive there, Sherlock kept thinking about the one person who knew the answers to everything, she was good at hiding too. Intelligence was unfortunately inherited throughout the family, it was clear from a young age.  
_  
"Mycroft, you promised!" the shriek of a 7 year old girl came from the living room, she was sitting on her elder brother's lap. Mycroft, now 25, had just arrived back after a trip to China, it was Christmas Eve. A 20 year old Sherlock standing in the archway to the living room, leaning against the wall, studying the body language change of his older brother. Rosalia's brown curls were forced into a side plait, wearing a black skirt that reached her knees and a pale blue peter-pan necked shirt. Mycroft wore a grey suit, Sherlock sighed, forever formal, his attire was a little less formal, black jeans and a navy shirt. _

_"Lia, I know, but I have just arrived back from a trip." Mycroft said, placing his hand on his little sister's back. _

_"You've been here for an hour and 46 minutes! You said you would read this to me." She held up a book to show, a copy of Hamlet. "I haven't read it yet. I've been waiting for you." _

_"I need some sleep, maybe Sherlock can read it with you?" Mycroft looked up at his brother and smiled, Rosalia looked up to and smiled a wide grin, she stood up and walked over to her other brother, glaring into his eyes with her tiny sapphire ones, her height reaching up to his waist. "Come along, brother. Unless you want to join me in the kitchen and talk to mother and father?" Sherlock sighed at his brother and picked Rosalia in his arms and smiled. _

_"Hamlet then, Lia?" the little girl smiled as her big brother sat her down on his lap. She handed him the book and he flicked through it to see some handwriting next to the first 4 pages on the play. He looked down at his sister's grin. "Been making notes?" _

_"I was reading it, making notes." Her face turned sad and the smile faded. "Daddy. Told me off." She looked into Sherlock's eyes. He knew exactly what that meant. Sherlock pulled her closer and stroked her hair. Rosalia hugged her brother's shirt and held him closer. _

_"It's going to be okay, Lia. Promise." Sherlock lied to her. _

_"You're never here. Mycroft isn't either." She broke the embrace to look at her brother's eyes. "There is something you aren't telling me." Sherlock looked at her, eyebrows raised. "You're not telling all of us something." _

_"It's not for you to worry about, Rosalia." _

_"We're family, we are meant to worry for each other." _

_"Sentiment." Sherlock scoffed as he turned away from her. Rosalia's face looked shocked at her brother. _

_"Sentiment…is it bad to you?" _

_"Yes, I believe that." _

_"So that means you don't care, about me? About Mycroft?" Sherlock looked at his sister, her heart break showing in her eyes. She said no more and stormed upstairs, tears flowing from her eyes. Sherlock stood up to follow her. _

_"SHERLOCK!" He turned to see his father, standing in the door way to the kitchen. His father standing there, anger on his face. He used to be scared of his height, the eyes of anger. He wasn't anymore. _

_"Yes?" He said looking at him, eyebrow raised. _

_"You upset my little girl?" _

_"No, but you do often." His father stomped closer to him, squaring him up. "At least I don't hit her." Sherlock doubled back as his father punched him across the face. _

_"You should be more like your brother, respectful-"_

_"A suck-up? The favourite? I'm no one's favourite person, I can deal with that. Stop trying to intimidate me, you don't scare me anymore you pathetic man." Sherlock dodged another fist from his father and responded to punch him hard across face, possibly breaking his nose. He fell to the floor, blood on his hands as Sherlock left to go after his upset sister. He could only hear the screams from his concerned mother as he went up to find Rosalia. He found his sister sitting on her bed, he looked at her room and smiled. Cluttered in a sea of books, papers strewn everywhere. Her desk piled with drawings and a single science book, he gave it to her when she was only 5. The pink room was too girly for this little girl, she wasn't normal. Just like him. _

_"I thought you didn't care, Sherlock?" Rosalia looked at him, her eyes red. Sherlock sat down beside her on the bed too big for her. _

_"I do." _

_"Then why be repulsed at the idea of any sentiment?"_

_"Our pasts are different. Mycroft and I have never got along well." His face was cold, his voice emotionless. "He is the special one, the good brother. I had to accept that on my own, then you were born, I had a distraction." _

_"Do you have a distraction now?" Sherlock stiffened at the question. _

_"Yes." _

_"Be careful, Sherlie." She smiled at him. The door opened and Mycroft entered the room. "I thought you went to bed!" _

_"Mother has taken father to hospital." Mycroft said, looking at Sherlock. _

_"Broken nose?" Sherlock asked as Mycroft nodded. Sherlock smirked. _

_"Don't act impressed with yourself. Mother will be wanting to speak to you." Rosalia looked shocked at her brother, Sherlock hit her father. She smiled. Sherlock smiled a little. Mycroft stood more into the room to see the chaos. "It's like your room all those years ago, Sherlock." _

_"Why are you never home, Mycroft, Sherlock?" the little girl asked. Mycroft sat on the other side of his little sister. _

_"I am very busy with my work, I am sorry." _

_"What do you do?" _

_"I can't say sorry." Rosalia tenced under this answer and turned to Sherlock. _

_"I'll be here for you after university, I promise." Rosalia smiled at her two brothers and grabbed a book out. The Tempest, her favourite. _

_"Let me guess, you want to be Ariel?" Mycroft chuckled as his sister smiled widely. Sherlock looked at her, she was smart for her age. Just like Mycroft was. Just like he was. _

"Sherlock?" John said, snapping out of his flashback. "A body to inspect, remember?"

"Yes, sorry." John handed Sherlock a pair of latex gloves as he was shown to the body, lying on its back, facing up. The shot was simple and straight into the heart. "You sent the bullet off for inspection yet?"

"Sent off to Bart's-" Lestrade began to talk

"Was it silver?"

"Yes, of course it was. Why?"

"My brother is starting to make the links, Detective Inspector." The three turned to see Mycroft standing behind them.

"Why are you here? You never busy yourself with crime scenes, Mycroft."

"Had to see the body for myself, a clear shot to the heart, yes?"

"The Rogue." Sherlock said simply cutting to the chase. "I made that link straight away, don't be stupid it does horrors for the family name." Sherlock turned to Lestrade "Do you have footage of this scene?"

"Yes, we can show it to you if that'd help. I don't see how, it was a sniper shot, clearly-"

"A sniper could never get this accuracy from a distance, not even the best in the world. We are looking for a pistol user, she wasn't far.-"

"She?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes, she, Lestrade." Mycroft said, getting involved. "We are dealing with a serial killer."

"Or an assassin." Sherlock turned to leave. "A poor homeless gang, with a rich serial killer on their side? This doesn't make sense, you know it doesn't. Have the body moved, I'll take a closer look later. I need the tapes of the people who have been and passed here through the last 3 hours. I'll be at Bart's." Sherlock hailed a cab and John rushed after him to get into it, leaving Lestrade and Mycroft at the scene.

"This is related to the gangs?" Lestrade managed to say as he turned to Mycroft. Mycroft raised his eyebrow.

"Clearly, why can you not even see this?" Mycroft then stepped into his black car and drove off, leaving Lestrade to give his orders to give the consulting detective what he needed.

* * *

Rosalia arrived back at the mansion at later that morning, no more than 40 mintues after the murder. She breathed heavily as she regained her energy from the journey there.

"You get em?" Lydia shouted, she was on watch this time. Rosalia raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Nice one! Long distance?"

"Blended with crowd, alley. Used a scope but wasn't that far away."

"I don't know how you do it Rose."

"And hopefully you never will." Rosalia winked and walked up the stairs.

"Yeah, leave the killing to you." Lydia winked back at her friend and looked forward again. Rosalia walked into the office, not even knocking. Malus smiled at her, a big grin on his face.

"You, my dear, are a god send!" He spread his arms wide, dramatically. "Killed quickly, swiftly-"

"Why did I kill him?" She asked bluntly, the question playing on her mind.

"He knew the members, we needed to send a message."

"Why are you helping these people, what are we really doing Malus?"

"Wow, you're starting to ask a lot of questions, Miss Holmes."

"Don't use my real name here." She said through her gritted teeth. "I've known you for a while now and its taken me this long to figure out something is up. I'm getting slow."

"I can't tell you."

"Then I can't work for you."

"You don't get a choice-"

"I fucking do. I'm working for a druggy power obsessed man. You're funding this gang for another reason."

"Where has this all come from?" Malus' voice was angry.

"When you do a lot of sitting around for a person, you think. Something I haven't done in a long time. And I thought about the significance of this kill. It has none."

"He worked at Imperial-"

"We're after the people that killed Johnny years ago, according to you."

"You speak like you are one of them."

"I am, I saw it happen."

"You were my mole at the time, my little spy." His voice dripped with venom "You still are."

"No, no I'm not."

"You are."

"NO!" she shouted "Listen to me, Malus. You tell me the truth now. Or I'll walk-"

"And do what? You're wanted by the police."

"Rosie Evans is but Rosalia Holmes isn't. Neither are my other aliases."

"You're nothing without me, Rosalia. Face it." With that he stood, slamming his fist on the table.

"No, Malus. You're nothing without ME." Rosalia stood up to him.

"I took you in that day. You were 15, lucky to escape the people in France. Leading your brother onto your death…it was all so clever. But it would have been nothing without my help."

"I needed to disappear, I have. I only needed a computer."

"Stop acting like you're so clever."

"But I am, and you're scared that if I leave you right now, I'll find a way to out-smart you again." Malus stared at her.

"But you're not going to leave."

"How do you know?"

"Matt." She froze, damn, he could tell. "I can see it. The two of you."

"He'll cope."

"But will he live?"

"You wouldn't."

"Want to bet?"

"No, you won't as if I leave, you need a killer. A new one. Matt and I can kill together. And alone. You need him if I leave." Malus smirked, she was too smart.

"Well we have a slight problem then, don't we?"

"What's that then?"

"What you do now." Malus looked at the young brunette haired girl infront of him, her curls tainted with a half blonde dye. Her blue eyes thinking.

"One more job." She said slowly. "Then I'm off, unless you want to tell me now, what you are doing? Why get involved in all of this? I don't know why I haven't questioned this before." She put her hands on her hips and laughed at herself. She began to whisper. "I forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"You're avoiding the question." It was almost as if a small switch was flicked inside the 19 year old's head. "One last job or telling me the truth?"

"I'll let you know when we have a last job for you." Malus then turned away from the young assassin. She laughed to herself and walked out, almost slamming the door behind her. She looked as Matt was already in the hallway, waiting for her. Rosalia stormed past him and went to the room she vacated most of the time, locking the door behind her. She needed to find out what he was up to. She needed help, she reached for the window and climbed down carefully, heading for the one place she knew she could get help.

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